Protection
by Ilyusha
Summary: G1. Slash. IronhidexRatchet. The medic’s job is to patch everyone back together. But who patches the medic back together?


Disclaimer: As per usual, the good things in life are not mine to have, but belong to someone else... in this case Hasbro, Takara and IDW and anyone else I've forgotten… Authors Notes: This fic was born from the gorgeous pic **moyakoordinat** posted on the Livejournal community 'tf80sfun' and a fluffy bunny hopped on to my desk and demanded feeding… I think it might have mutated though… sorry about that ;)  
Feedback makes friends. Flames dealt with by the masters of paranoia and fire, Red Alert and Inferno.

Pic: http:// community . livejournal .com / tf80sfun / 20385.html (remove spaces)

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He couldn't stop, because if he stopped, someone would die and he was slagged if he'd let that happen. He couldn't stop, not when he had so much left to do. So many more lives to save. So much to do… 

Ratchet paused for a moment, the rag he had been using to clean mech. fluid off his hands hanging limply; excess fluids dripping on the already stained floor. He'd done everything he could yet still lives had been lost. It wasn't something he dealt easily with. It wasn't built into his circuitry to fail. He was the best at what he did, yet still he failed. The three spark-less chassis lying on the berths in the side room showed how badly he had failed.

So deep in his own recriminations was he that Ratchet didn't hear the uneven footsteps behind him. He jumped as hands rested gently on his shoulders.

"Ratchet?" The voice spoke of concern mingled with love that wasn't often shown, at least not in public.

"I'm fine Ironhide." He was sharper than he needed to be, that much he could tell by the way the hands tightened briefly on his shoulders.

"Yeah and I can walk in a straight line. This is me, Ratchet." The warriors attempt at lightening the situation didn't help. Shifting his weight awkwardly, he stayed standing behind Ratchet, hands resting gently on shoulders that had too much to carry. A burden too big for one mech. to handle on his own. Regardless of how good they were, it wasn't something they should have to cope with alone. And Ironhide was determined that Ratchet would not bear this burden alone.

"You did well today. So many saved when so many could hav' been lost." His accent softened the compliment. Ratchet merely shook his head, not moving from the small comfort Ironhide provided.

"Didn't save enough."

The battle had been vicious; the Decepticons far outnumbering the Autobots. Ratchet had been called onto the battlefield to patch up the wounded, hoping against hope that their additions back into the Autobot forces would turn the tide.

It didn't.

"How many?" Ironhide had already read the reports. He knew exactly how many had been wounded and how many Ratchet had worked tirelessly to save. But he needed to hear Ratchet say it. He knew Ratchet needed to admit it to himself.

"Three." The defeat in Ratchet's voice was almost too much for Ironhide to bear. He rested his head briefly against the back of Ratchet's helmet, knowing by the minuscule movements of Ratchet's shoulders that the other mech. was crying, optic fluid running freely down his cheekplates.

"You're not Primus." He whispered straightening up as Ratchet pulled away with a snarl.

"I fragging well know that Ironhide. I've got the proof of that in there!" He pointed a hand at the small room housing the now spark-less chassis. His hand wavered in the air, a sure sign of his exhaustion and anger. Dropping his hand back down at his side, he stared up at Ironhide, resignation clear on his faceplates, his optics tired and sad. "I couldn't save them. I did everything I could, but I was just too late…" He sank to his knees, the grief overcoming him, as it always did. It was always like this Ironhide reflected, the medic patched everyone back together, but he was the only one able to patch the medic back together. Sweeping Ratchet close in his arms, Ironhide knelt beside him, holding his lover as close as possible, giving him the time and comfort he needed to let the grief run its course.

"I couldn't save them. I just couldn't. There was too much damage and not enough materials." He listened with half an audio to Ratchet's excuses. He needed no excuses and had to provide none. Prime knew how hard a medic's job was and would never dream of berating Ratchet for not saving everyone. Not even Primus could save everyone. They were part of the Matrix now. United and at peace.

Now all that was left was to piece the medic back together.

88088088088088088

The shuddering of Ratchet's frame slowly subsided and he shifted closer to Ironhide, clutching at the warrior's arms.

"I tried my best…" He whispered brokenly.

"That's all we ask of ya Ratchet."

"I… I…" Words failed him and he tilted his head so he could look his lover in the optics.

"You're always there for me."

"I'll always be there for ya. I'll always protect you." He vowed. They renewed this vow every time they returned from battle. Every time Ratchet lost a mech. Every time Ratchet thought he had failed, Ironhide was always there. Ironhide would always be there.

"Love you…" The admission was faint; Ratchet was near the end of his over-stretched energy reserves.

"Love you too." Ironhide muttered, nuzzling Ratchet's helmet. Struggling against his injured leg to stand, he hauled Ratchet up, leading them both to an empty berth. He settled himself on it, drawing Ratchet closer, smiling as the medic leaned up against him, one hand splayed across his windscreen, his features finally relaxing as he slipped into recharge.

"I can protect you from anything but yourself. But I'll keep trying."


End file.
